


please hang up

by plethoriall



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plethoriall/pseuds/plethoriall
Summary: Sid doesn’t know how to end video calls. Claude has a way for them to kill time together.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Claude Giroux
Comments: 17
Kudos: 165





	please hang up

“I can’t figure out.. Is it just you and me in the call?”

“Yep.”

“Can you end the call?”

“Then you won’t have learned anything.”

“What am I supposed to learn from this?”

“How to end a call.”

“Fucking-”

Claude watches Sid’s efforts with amusement. He keeps making frustrated sounds and looking at the screen like it’s an alien artefact. The video interview had been mind-numbing, and dragged on for far too long. But it’s worth it to watch the aftermath of Sid trying to figure out technology.

“Seriously, how aren’t you able to end the call?” Claude says after a while. Because as funny as it is, it’s also making him wonder if Crosby is secretly eighty.

“I’m clicking the button and nothing is happening,” Sid snaps. God, he sounds pissed.

It’s beautiful.

“If you keep clicking, it’ll start broadcasting,” Claude lies.

There’s a sharp intake of breath and Sid must almost drop the laptop, from the sudden motion. Claude grins. He can barely see any of Sid’s face, other than his nostrils.

“This situation isn’t tough enough without you pissing me off?”

“Hey, it’s making me feel better.” And it is. This is the most entertained he’s been in days.

Sid huffs out a breath. “Can you please end the call?”

“You don’t want to spend time with me?” Claude says in a mock-offended tone.

“We just suffered through an interview together. Isn’t that punishment enough?

“That wasn’t one-on-one time. We’d be missing a chance to really bond.” _I’m so fucking bored_, he doesn’t add.

“You really won’t end the call?” Sid says, with what might be a hint of pleading.

“Nope,” Claude says with a pop.

“Well I guess you’re coming with me to make lunch,” Sid grumbles, and then Claude’s being treated to a _found footage_ tour of Sid’s torso and hallway.

He puts the laptop on the counter, and Claude had half expected him to face it the wrong way. Maybe he’s only secretly seventy - he looks great for his age.

“What’re you making?” Claude asks, because he’s rummaging through the fridge, pulling out.. Tupperware?

He sees Sid’s lips moving, but it’s more a mumble than words.

“Speak up when you’re far away from the laptop.”

“Reheating some leftovers,” Sid says, louder like Claude’s annoying him by not being able to lip read.

“You said you were making lunch. You’re a liar.”

“I am making lunch. What does this look like?” Sid shakes the Tupperware at the laptop. Claude wishes the lid was loose.

“Reheating is not making.”

“I’m-” Sid starts, but then shakes his head, “Fuck it, I’m not giving you what you want.”

“And what is it that I want?”

“You want me to argue with you. For whatever reason, you think that’s entertaining.”

“Don’t try to take the high road with me. You love arguing with me too.”

Sid looks away, but Claude thinks he sees the hint of a smile before he does. They’re continuing the familiar dance they’ve been doing for over a decade, and they both know it. Claude watches him reheating some kind of pasta that’s probably not in his meal plan, before trying to make conversation again.

“Worried about the expansion draft?”

Sid closes his eyes for a second, like somehow Claude is the fiftieth person to ask him today. And then he’s got his media voice ready. “About as much as anyone else. What happened with Flower was tough-”

“Yeah, I know about your fetish for French Canadians.”

He can almost see Crosby’s internal monologue. The struggle to stick with the _I’m not arguing with you_ stance. But it has him out of his media headspace. He’s so fucking easy to rile up.

“What about you? Worried about it?”

“Not too concerned right now,” Claude says with a shrug.

“Claude.” Sid leans in closer on the counter. So close he thinks he might headbutt the screen.

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you hanging up the call?”

Claude is silent for a moment. But he’s been watching an SAS documentary recently and the phrase ‘_who dares, wins’_ is stuck in his head. Even for his less than noble intentions. “You remember that time in Prague?”

“Oh god.”

They’d exchanged sloppy handjobs and Sid had told him not to tell anyone four times, including once during the act. Then they ignored each other for the rest of the tournament. Sid couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You ever think about it?” Claude continues.

“Think about how I make terrible fucking decisions when I’m drunk?” Sid says with a pained expression.

“I mean, you do,” Claude says, because beside the handjobs, he remembers Sid getting drunk and trying to argue with Burnsy, “but think about it in general.”

There’s a pause.

“Are you trying to have phone sex with me?” Sid says flatly. Claude’s almost impressed he got it that quickly. Even if he said _phone sex_.

“And if I am?”

Sid raises an eyebrow. “Might want to work on your lines.”

“No need to improve perfection.”

Sid huffs out a laugh. “I’ll pass.”

“Shame. I liked the face you made when you-”

“Stop,” Sid says sharply, and moves toward the laptop again. Still no headbutt, but close. Claude thinks he’s finally going to figure out how to end the call, or maybe put the laptop in a cupboard. But he looks at the camera.

“You’d really want to do that on a call?”

“Why not? Life is dull right now. We’ve both got enough to lose that we’re not going to tell anyone. It’s harmless, like Prague.” Maybe more harmless than Prague – there’s no risk of anyone walking in.

“How would it work?”

Claude rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to believe you if you tell me you’ve never heard of people masturbating on a video call before.”

“Of course I know about that,” Sid says irritably, “I mean would you want to.. Talk during it?”

It’s Claude’s turn to pause. He can’t imagine Sid’s dirty talk being _good_, but if it’s combined with watching him touch-

“We can work that out when we get that far along. Do you need to have your lunch first?” he manages. The situation feels strange already.

“No, it can wait. I mainly started making it to see if you’d get bored and end the call.”

“Figured. Want to go somewhere you can get comfortable?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He’s treated to yet another shaky sequence of blurs and Sid’s lower face before the video evens out. He could have helped film the _Blair Witch Project_ with the amount of shaking and nostril footage.

Then he’s in Sid’s bedroom, being placed on the bed. It’s not the context he had hoped to see it for the first time, but still. Sid sits beside it, looking incredibly nervous.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he mumbles.

“It’s no big deal. Look, I’ll go first.”

All Claude has to do is pull his sweats down, angle the laptop a little, and back the chair up so his face is still in the frame. It’s only fair, after all - he sure as fuck wants to see Sid’s face too. It feels satisfying to see Sid’s face studying the screen.

“I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

Sid throws his t-shirt off-screen, and Claude had always imagined him to be a _fold-your-clothes-neatly_ kind of guy. Then he pulls his jeans and underwear down, which is fascinating to Claude in its own right. He almost wants to ask Sid to show him how he puts them back on after.

“This would be a terrible moment to discover we’re not the only ones in the call,” Claude says, chuckling to himself.

“Can you check?” Sid says, looking panicked. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said that.

“Sure,” Claude says with a sigh. He leans forward to check - there’s still no one else in the call. “All clear. Just us.”

Sid bites his lip like it still has him on edge.

“Get comfortable,” Claude says, trying to prompt him into stopping looking like he’s about to be executed with his dick out.

Claude pumps some lotion into his hand. It’ll do the job. He keeps the lube in the bedroom, and he’s pretty invested in not moving.

It’s a relief to get his hand on himself, and see Sid do the same, albeit with lube. Moments go by where they stroke themselves, eyes glued to their screens. There’s no hurry, and Claude can feel himself relaxing.

“Been doing this a lot in the last few weeks?” Sid says and it doesn’t even sound like a chirp. The tension’s faded from his voice.

“Maybe,” Claude responds. He _has_, because it’s as good of a time killer as anything else. He doesn’t usually get much downtime, and it’s like autopilot when he does. “How about you?”

“More than usual,” Sid says, and Claude tries to picture how he does it when he’s not being watched.

“You ever play with your fingers?”

“Like, finger myself? Why?” Sid says with narrowed eyes.

Claude closes his eyes for a second. “Why do you think?”

“Are you going to make fun of me?” Sid’s hand pauses on his dick.

“Why-,“ he starts and then reconsiders. Now is not the time to argue. “You know what, never mind why. No, I’m not going to make fun of you.”

“Yeah, I finger myself,” Sid says, looking at the screen like he’s waiting for two more Flyers to jump into view, pointing and laughing and calling him a bonehead. Like Claude isn’t stroking his dick in plain sight.

“Want to do that now?”

Sid raises an eyebrow. “You want me to finger myself for you?”

“Yeah. Actually, do you have any toys? That would be even better,” Claude says. He’s got this far from saying what he wants, he might as well ask. Sid looks torn for a moment, so Claude adds, “And no, I’m still not going to make fun of you.”

“I have one. I’m not sure how that works with the angle and the laptop, though.”

Sid digs through his bedside drawer, and Claude would kill to be able to see the contents. He bets he doesn’t only have _one_ by the expression on his face.

“This work for you?” Sid mumbles, holding up a toy in that classic lurid purple color.

“As long as it works for you,” Claude says, squeezing the base of his dick. He needs to calm down, can’t afford to get this excited before the real fun has started.

“Have to do fingers first,” Sid tells him. Like he doesn’t know that.

“Show me,” Claude breathes, and hopes with all his being that Sid can figure out how to work the camera enough to get a good angle.

Sid lays back and his hand disappears between his thighs. And it’s exactly what he feared - Claude wants to tell him to _fix the angle_, but the way Sid’s mouth hangs open a little has him hypnotized. He’ll give a quick Video Sex Angles 101 when he’s done with prep.

Claude hasn’t even been able to follow how many fingers he’s worked his way up to when Sid pulls them free.

“Maybe move your pillows over. So I can see more,” he says quickly. Sid shrugs at the screen, but he piles the pillows up and lays back and- fuck, he can see it all now. His face, his dick. And his thighs are obscene. It’s like his personal porn.

“That’s perfect, don’t move.”

“I have to move,” Sid mumbles.

“You know what I mean,” Claude says, because suddenly he has no patience. He wants Sid fucking himself with that toy to orgasm, and then he wants to come too. And ideally, next time they play each other he gets to replace that purple toy with his dick.

Sid has an uncomfortable expression on his face when he’s pushing it inside himself. Claude wonders if he hurried the prep, or if maybe he likes it to hurt a little, at first.

He gets his answer a few minutes in – Sid starts to make quiet, content noises. Not entirely moans, but not far off either. It’s so good, Claude has to remember to slow his hand down, try to match the rhythm of Sid fucking himself with the toy.

“Can you come from the toy alone?”

“No,” Sid manages. Then adds “Can’t say I’ve tried.”

“Want to try now?”

“No, I want to get off,” Sid says with an annoyed glance at the screen. Claude puts a bookmark in that thought, if he manages to get Sid to do this again.

Sid alternates letting his head fall back and looking at the laptop, and Claude’s not sure which he likes more. When he looks at the screen, it’s like they’re making eye contact, but when he sees the way Sid’s mouth opens as he tilts his head back, it tells Claude that it _feels so good_.

“Fuck, I want to make you scream,” Claude says before he can stop himself. His brain is fried enough right now that he’s not going to manage more than breathy clichés. But Sid doesn’t seem to mind, looks up at the screen.

“Yeah?” Sid manages. His mouth is lax, like he doesn’t have brain power left over for speech.

“I always regretted not fucking you in Prague,” Claude admits. Even the handjobs were far beyond the realm of what they should have been doing. They weren’t roommates, they’d been lucky to get away with it. But he wishes they had taken that risk.

Claude’s fascinated by the way Sid’s hand on his dick frequently falls still for a beat, while the one holding the toy keeps going at a frantic pace. He bets he could get him to come from the toy, if Sid would let him try. Or even better, with his dick. He could hold his hands down and-

“Fuck,” Sid breathes, speeding up both hands. He’s biting his lip, like he’s getting close. Claude can see the strain in his thighs as he works, he can almost imagine how tight he’d be getting around his dick-

Claude huffs out a long breath when he comes. He can’t feel defeated that he came first, not when he’s working his way through the aftershocks. He’s still in the midst of it when he watches Sid’s mouth fall open, his dick spilling onto his stomach.

For what seems like a long time, the only sounds are him catching his breath, and the same from Sid through the laptop speakers. He’s too drained to move.

Then the glow wears off, and the mixture of come and lotion in his hand is sobering.

“We should probably clean up,” Sid says, like he’s reading his thoughts. Claude looks up in time to see Sid working the toy out of himself with an expression similar to when it first went in.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Sid says with a slight smile. The way he says it, with a pleased voice and his dick softening against his thigh, almost makes Claude agree.

“Want to try this again tomorrow? It can be one of your weird routines,” Claude suggests. Maybe he can convince Sid to show him the rest of his toy collection.

“You mean getting stuck on a call with you?”

Claude makes a disbelieving sound.

“Be honest. You could have hung up if you really wanted.”

“Yeah, probably,” Sid says sheepishly, “tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow. Stay safe, Croz.”

“You too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many hand-waves. Short and unbetaed, but I have been haunted since seeing that Zoom call


End file.
